Revenge Best Served with Apples
by IndieWrites
Summary: Revenge taste much sweeter when served up on a platter with apple slices, or so Ryuk thinks. He makes a tempting offer. Will it be taken? A different outcome to the events of Episode 35. A/U
1. Bite Offered

_A/N:_ This is my first shot at a fanfic..  
Honestly, I had to... I just watched the last 5 episodes of DN and it bugged me.. all of it... So I wrote out what I thought could have happened.  
I hope I didn't totally ruin the characters. And yes.. no names were used.. I am hoping people who watch it will be able to recognize who the characters are without them.  
I don't know.. I hope you enjoy my bit of fluff.  
Actually I have gotten good responses on DA.. So I sincerely you enjoy this and will review.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of Death Note, or its characters (though there are a few I would love to keep in a closet for my own amusement ;P)  
These wonderful creations belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.  
I only hope that someday I will create something half as interesting as theirs.

**Bite Offered**

Rain streaming down the windows mimicked the emotions he couldn't show. Twirling his white hair around his fingers, he quietly contemplated the news that had just been broken upon him.

"You're sure?" He asked in his quiet way, strangely hoping there was some mistake. His reflection in the window, that he was now looking out of, showed eyes shining with sadness, something he rarely indulged in.

"Yes. I was there, remember?" the man lying on the bed whispered, his voice hollow and desperate. One arm folded around his slim stomach, the other cast over his eyes, trying in vain to hide the tears that now strolled down his face. A crucifix on a chain was clutched tightly in his hand, silent reminder of what he had lost. His blood stained vest and goggles were thrown on the floor, forgotten in his haste to distance himself from the events that had just happened over two hours ago.

"Then, we know what must be done. You did bring it, right?" Not even bothering to turn around, the man by the window dropped his hand and sighed. Combating the guilt that sat in his chest, weighing heavier than a boulder, he bowed his head, hating what had happened and what now must take place.

Waving his hand to the backpack that sat isolated in a corner, the red head simply nodded. He heard his companion walk softly across the floor and knew he was now knelt down in front of it. He heard the zipper pull open and closed his eyes. It had been the bane of their existence for the past six years, the infamous notebook. Simple unassuming, black leather bound, blank pages held within. Others held names, names of the slain.

The very book that had been used to kill his greatest friend, his brother in arms, was now resting in the lap of the man he had grown up with. Sitting up, he looked at the hunched figure on the floor, curiously turning the book over and over in his small, long fingered hands, hands not unlike his predecessor's. He frowned, realizing how much the two had had in common. Perhaps that was why he had always felt like such an outsider.

Until he had met that blonde rebel, the one who wouldn't accept second place. The one whose blood he now wore. Reaching into his jeans pocket, his fingers searching for a smoke, something to keep his hands from shaking, he felt nothing but lint between his fingertips. Realizing that he had none, he let out a frustrated sigh and mumbled a harsh curse, before returning his attention to the slouching man on the floor.

"So this is it. This is the book we have been after, the weapon of choice." The voice coming from the figure sounded almost in awe. That quickly turned to anger. He turned back around, holding the book up by one corner, as if by touching it, he had soiled his hand with all the blood split from the victims whose names were held therein. His usually wide eyes narrowed and his solemn face held a look of utter revulsion.

"This… thing. This is what killed them both." He spat.

Rubbing his head, his companion nodded, feeling a mixture of anguish and fury rise within him. Hearing the rain beat against the window pane of the room he had not been in for year, nostalgia crept in as thick and as wet as the London fog rolling in off the river. This house had once been filled with life, and laughter. Rivalries and friendships had been crafted here. That was a different time, a time before the notebook and the deaths.

Now they were the only two left. And they had revenge to exact.

"He did his job well. The dates, time, names. It's all right here. "The white haired man said, once again twirling his hair around his finger. Flipping through the pages, he paused here and there to look at a name, a detailed description of a perfectly executed death written in such elegant penmanship.

Suddenly he dropped it, causing the red head to jump to his feet in alarm. It made a soft thud on the floor, lying so harmlessly on the wooden slates. His face held a look of shock, one his companion had never seen before.

"What? What is it?" He asked, stunned by the tortured dark eyes that were now raised to his. Reminding him of the beautiful blue eyes he had had to close, knowing his friend had taken the bullets meant for him. His hands covered in the warm red liquid that poured from the twisted lithe leather clad body of the man he had devoted his life to. The last words on those lips, scarred, but still able to convey much emotion. The words he would have died to hear, if only it would have saved that golden headed man.

"Their names." The voice cracked, backing away from the book. "Their names are in there."

Silence engulfed them. Nothing needed to be said; they both understood and accepted the unspoken vows.

"When do we strike?"

"Soon"

"Might I be of some assistance?" An otherworldly voice asked, a strange being appearing before them.

...

Pushing back from his computer console, the brunette grinned a grin akin to evil. His plans had gone well. One of his foes was now dead, the others would soon follow. Who had ever thought that having such stanch followers would work out to his advantage? Yes, the death of his spokeswoman was regrettable, but necessary. And he felt not the slightest twinge of guilt in her demise. All, in his eyes, were expendable. Once they served their purpose in his scheme for domination and world utopia, he had no further need of them.

He stretched his arms up over his head and laughed. Power was like a drug that coursed as quickly as poison through his unholy veins. God like in his own mind, he ruled his world with a deadly hand. Neither friend nor foe was safe. Even his own family had come under his vision of a vice free world, and had paid dearly for it. Nothing but his own desires held value in his eyes.

He glanced at his priceless watch, a timepiece with a secret.

A vicious secret.

Time was soon approaching for the next part of his plan to take place. Flipping the huge screen before him on, the latest news break-though flashed up on the screen simultaneous with his cell phone ringing. Scowling at the number that showed, he put it up to his ear with a smirk.

"Yes?" He said, trying to calm the triumph in his voice.

"We may have hit a snag." The voice on the other end said shakily. "One of the passengers apparently escaped."

He leaped to his feet, one hand clenched in a white knuckled fist.

"What?" He roared into the phone, startling the other men standing about.

"Sorry sir. But the police only found one body at the scene, and witnesses have confirmed there were two men inside the car."

"Who?" he asked, sweat starting to form on his forehead and trickle down his face.

"The body was identified as Keelh Mihael. We don't know who the other one was." The man said.

"Mello." He said, the smile returning to his face. "No matter, the man I wanted taken care has been eliminated. The other is of no threat to me at this time. Return here as soon as possible, please." Hanging up, he spun around and walked on light feet out of the room, not wanting his followers to see his look of glee.

"Check mate." He whispered.

...

The two raised curious eyes the eerie being before them.

"You must be the Shinigami." The calmer of the two said, not particularly surprised at his appearance.

"I am." The death god stated nonchalantly.

"Why would you want to help us?" the red head asked, bending to pick up his goggles and perching them on the top of his head. This certainly threw an interesting curve in their plans. With a god on their side, he was sure they wouldn't fail.

Laughing his ghostly laugh, the red eyed god shrugged. "A man believing he is a god is something of amusement." Then his expression changed to one of anger. "While we as Shinigami aren't beings of much feeling, on occasion something does strike a sour note with us. Rem was my friend, and he manipulated her to her demise. I have been waiting for a chance to repay him for his actions. Up until now, everyone who has had the note has been a follower, with the exception of your Mello. I was going to used him to exact my revenge. However, he didn't know the identity of Kira, where as you do and are already planning revenge." He bowed in mock submission. "I am at your disposal."

Two sets of eye brows shot up and they looked at each other, a bit taken aback. Neither was sure they could trust the death god. One shrugged and the other nodded. They didn't have much to lose at this time.

"Ok." They said in unison. "What is the plan then?"

"We shall stick to your original one. With one change." The Shinigami said, picking up the notebook with his long skeletal claws. He then handed it to the red head and nodded as the man took it in his hands, a sneer marring his face.

"That is?" He asked.

"You shall hand this back to him, just before he dies. I want his last visual to be me." He turned his bony back to them, and then glanced back, the smallest hint of a smile on his grotesque face.

"By the way, do you have any apples?"


	2. The Core of the Matter

_A/N:_ This is the second part of Revenge. So if you are reading this one.. please read Revenge first.

OH... and to the flamer who attempted to assassinate the first part... Before you decide to critique someone's work, make sure they want it. And if you are going to spout off 'facts', make sure that they are correct. Contrary to your belief, I happen to be an educated person. AND I do my research. You should try it sometime, it may help you not look like such an ignorant fool.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own any part of Death Note, or its characters (though there are a few I would love to keep in a closet for my own amusement )  
These wonderful creations belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.  
I only hope that someday I will create something half as interesting as theirs.

**The Core Of The Matter**

The ground was cold. Cold, hard and unforgiving underneath his knees. That single thought floated solitarily through his mind. A strange thought, considering.

Considering what he had just lost.

Four graves sat before him, two freshly dug. Single letters adorned the tops of the headstones. Looking up at the back of the old English mansion, he clenched his fist, allowing the feelings of sorrow and rage overwhelm him. Tears burned fiery paths down his face, unchecked as his anguish threatened to swallow him whole.

"You! You turned your back on us. You, who held our laughter, the days of our youth." He raised his fists and shook them at the quiet building, waiting almost for some response.

"You knew of our innocence, protected our dreams, saw our ambitions. How could you turn your back on your prodigies? How dare you remain silent when all but me are gone?" He screamed, collapsing on his face in the freshly overturned dirt. One hand outreached, clutching a rosary, the other, fingers lightly brushing the cover of a small black note book. His sobs resounded throughout the icy stillness, reminding him, on top of his sorrow, that winter was fast approaching.

"Does that help?" a curious voice asked.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Does this blaming and crying really help? You know, since we Shinigami are incapable of shedding tears, in sorrow or otherwise." The voice held a strange emotion. Something that sounded close to guilt. That fact struck to the core of the red head and he sat up, looking into the unfathomable red eyes of the death god who had been their ally during recent events. Events that turned out much differently than he had supposed.

"Did you know this would happen?" He asked, pinning the god with a stony gaze. Ever the comic, he expected a jokingly snide remark from the strange being. Instead, the god shook his head, looking down at the graves.

"No. Despite our powers, sadly we are unable to predict the future." He paused and cocked his hideous head. "However, I do believe that _he_ did." Pointing a bony finger at the stone marked with an "N".

The red head followed his finger, eyes widened in surprise, and then understanding.

"He knew. But why?"

"Someone had to carry out the plan, and live to tell about it."

_**72 Hours earlier….**_

"By the way, do you have any apples?" The Shinigami asked, a cocky smile on his face, pulling back his thin lips, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"Apples?" the white haired young man asked, scratching his head. "I suppose there may be something down in the kitchen. A few of the maids were kept on after all, in the event of any of our returns."

Fingering his goggles, now down around his neck, the red head stretched his legs. Itching for movement, something other than just standing around, he headed to the door.

"I'll go look." He volunteered.

"Red, if you please." The death god said with a hint of amusement in his voice. A short nod was the only response he got.

Mumbling under his breath like a spoiled child, he quickly climbed down the stairs, mentally reviewing the plans they had just made, wondering if the pact with this apple loving death god was such a good idea after all.

Combing each cupboard and then the containers on the counters for the red treat, he finally found one hidden in a basket of fruit on one of the kitchen counters. He picked it up, examining the spotless scarlet skin, perfect in shape. Figuring that should do, he turned to leave. A flash of white caught his eye and he turned back to an open cupboard door, perusing the contents held therein.

Delicately wrapped treats nestled in a basket captured his attention and he lifted the basket down almost lovingly. The sweets were marked with an "L". Picking one up, the red head slowly unwrapped it, picturing the dark hair and almost bulging eyes of the man these were meant for. A man who had been as much their brother as their mentor.

Almost unbidden, he drifted back in memory to the time when this kitchen, like the rest of the house, had been full of life and laughter. The midnight gatherings of the sweet eaters, his best friend included. The sneaking down before lunch to catch a glimpse at what the cook was preparing for their deserts. The boys and girls, all geniuses in their own right, coming up with the silliest of plans to steal a few extra cakes, usually at the bidding and prodding of their oldest resident genius.

Softly a smile graced his lips, and he sighed. He would give almost anything for those days again. Even the petty little rivalries and spats would be welcome right now. Instead, the ghost of his past merely floated away, leaving his alone in the cold dark room, holding an apple in one hand and a candy in the other. Gently, he laid the candy back amongst its companions and walked back upstairs. His only hope was that this plan would not be for nothing.

Upstairs, while his companion was looking for the red fruit down in the kitchen, the white headed man sighed, twirling his hair around his finger in a familiar fashion. His wild gray eyes looked around the room, then down to the book in his lap.

"Just to be clear, this plan of ours… well it is possibly the intent of the other party that we both make it out of this intact. I, however, know quite differently." He stated matter of fact.

The Shinigami held his arms out akimbo in a shrug. Curious, he looked above the man's head and attained the information he needed. Nodding finally, he replied with a simple "Yes."

"You have seen my lifespan. You know that _he_ already knows my true name and will use it to obliterate me. I have analyzed all possible situations and have come to the conclusion that this is unavoidable, and though unfortunate, a sacrifice I am willing to make. My friend downstairs is unaware of this and I do not wish for him to know. So I am asking you to exercise the utmost discretion in what you disclose around him." He pinned the death god with an unusual glare, and receive a nod in return.

Hearing footsteps ascending the stairway, they fell into a contemplative silence. The red head entered the room and tossed a shiny apple to the entity sharing their space. Long skeletal fingers grabbed it and noisy eating smacks could soon be heard. The two humans gazed at each other, both silently counting the hours until they made their move.

* * *

_Laughter._

That sweet sound of harmony. From the mouth of a maniac, it was something horrible to hear. And it was now filling the empty surveillance room. Bent almost in half, his auburn hair a skewed in an unusually unruly fashion, he commenced his crazy gut wrenching laughter. Everything was going just as he had planned, to his obvious immense delight.

The appointment with his yet unseen enemy was on track and soon he would have a face to go with the name. The name he had so meticulously attained. L's successor would soon be joining him in whatever after life he was currently in. And he, the god of the new world, Kira, would finally reign supreme. His eyes bled red, the color of the blood of the souls he had taken. The evil bloomed inside his heart, turning it black as it gave birth to another wave of mirth.

Four more days and it would be done.

The phone rang.

And all his plans came crashing down around him, as the last bit of his sanity died a quite death.

"Sir, it's Near." One of his insignificant flunkies said, peeking his head gingery into the room. His temperamental boss appeared to be in a better mood than usual and he sincerely hoped that this phone call wouldn't change that. There was something unholy about the young man, and it had become even more apparent with the passing of his father. The gentle man had somehow been able to keep a lid on his genius of a son's mood swings.

But with the event of his untimely death, his beloved son had gone from meditatively quite to surly. Something was off kilter about the young man. And speculation was beginning to run a rampage through their group. No one dared to state the obvious thoughts they all had, but in the darken corners, one whispered word on fearful lips could be heard.

"Kira."

He had been kept under surveillance at his own request, believing in his insanity that his actions would disprove the concerns he knew his team still had. Even with the death of his nemesis several years before, the seeds of doubt he had planted remained with some of his colleagues. Perhaps L knew that by his death, he would only be instilling those seeds deeper.

The man shook his head and left the young man to his phone call, hurrying to rejoin the group who was taping the conversation.

A sick smile crossed his full lips as the brunette hit the speaker button. He detested bothering with the hand set when he was talking the annoying young man on the other end. 'Soon. Soon Near, you will know the full power of Kira.' He thought, trying his best to keep the smile out of his voice.

When this charade had first begun, he had been so successful in keeping his inner demon in check. He found in recent months however, that this was becoming a much harder task. He couldn't wait until the last obstacle had been exterminated and he could proclaim himself publically as ruler of the new and better world.

"Hello, Near." he said stoically. Racking his brain, he trying to pinpoint a reason why the quiet man would be calling him. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Kira's killings had neither increased nor decreased in frequency. As far as he knew, everything was going according to the plans they had made. So, reclining back in his chair, he ran a hand through his hair and frowned.

"To what do I own this privilege? Have you found out anything more about Kira's identity?" he asked in a perfunctory manner.

"No. I was calling to inform you that we will be unable to attend the meeting on the day we previously agreed upon. Instead, I have decided that we shall meet earlier." Near replied, setting the wheels in motion. He listened on the line, waiting to hear the panic or hesitation in Light's voice.

Light was taken aback to say the least. His heart hammered in his chest, beating out the sounds of his impending doom. Where they on to him? Had they somehow figured out what he was planning to execute during their face to face? He quickly pushed those thoughts away. L might have been smart enough to stay one step ahead of him, but this boy, this fill in; he doubted Near would have the half the intuition or ingenuity his predecessor had.

Mentally, he shrugged his shoulders. Why should he be worried? Even L had failed to grasp his perfect plan until it was too late. Near would surely follow the same path, scheduled meeting of not. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself quickly in order to answer in an unshakeable voice, full of bored concern.

"Oh? Did something come up? Anything I can help with?" He asked nonchalantly. He heard Near sigh and smirked. He knew it frustrated his enemy when he acted innocent and concerned. His mind began calculating the next best possible meeting day, when Near spoke again, his voice holding a tone of resignation.

"No. It's nothing that requires your involvement. It has come to my attention that it would be impossible for us to make that particular date, nothing more needs to be said." Near paused, nodding to his companion who was listening silently in the background, like he had done so many times with his now dead friend and leader. The red head gave a thumbs up and shifted from his position on the wall, casting a look at the death god who seemed just as interested in their conversation. He, above them all, knew the foe they were engaging and could pick up on any subtleties his voice.

"We will be arriving there in Japan in the next few days and will then contact you with the details of the meeting time. The agreed upon place still stands, unless you have some objection to that?" He asked, delivering the telling blow.

Light's mouth ran dry and he shot forward in his seat. They were changing the day. They were taking control of that variable. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. His plan was crumbling as this conversation was carrying on. He scrambled, trying to figure out just how to rectify this new development. Having been in control of everything for so long, a glitch like this threw his already off balanced mind out of the acceptable orbits.

He took a few moments to examine the alternatives, if there were even any that he could use to spin the spiraling situation back into his control. Eyes darted back and forth, lighting here and there on insignificant objects, his mouth worked like a fish, attempting to form words. Nothing came out for several seconds. Finally, he realized he had to reply, before his adversary got suspicious from his lack of response.

"Yes, I see. There is no reason why we shouldn't still meet there. My team and I will be awaiting your call." He said calmly, and then ended the transmission. Leaning back once again, he stretched his arms above his head and closed his eyes, thinking reflectively.

Knowing the meeting place would remain the same gave him a few advantages. Perhaps this wouldn't be a complete loss. He chuckled silently. He was Kira, he would not fail, no matter what was thrown at him. And come that designated day, in that designated place, Near would die.


End file.
